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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23919679">Colorblind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dtbookworm/pseuds/dtbookworm'>dtbookworm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Acceptance, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Good Friend, Friendship, Jokes, M/M, Mike Hanlon Deserves Nice Things, Racism, Richie Tozier is a Mess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:01:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,495</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23919679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dtbookworm/pseuds/dtbookworm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike comes home to find a racial slur written on the side of the barn done by Bowers. Fortunately, Mike has a friend who's a neat freak who specializes in getting rid of stains. And of course, Richie tags along for the ride. Even though Mike still feels like an outsider to the group (What can you expect from the being the only black kid in Derry), he takes solace in his friends.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon/Eddie Kaspbrak, Mike Hanlon/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Colorblind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey All! Here's my first fanfic for IT. The movie's more than horror. It's a heart tugging film of friendship and romance and I want to dive into it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mike stared at the phrase spray painted across the red barn in gold letters. Even under the July sun which beat down on his back and made the farm smell of manure and hay, the phrase on the barn nulled his senses. He should've been used to it. Right? I mean, after all, it was Derry, and he knew from his grandfather that it wasn't the most progressive of towns. He still recalled from hearing on the radio how a gay man was beaten to death a couple of nights ago. He heard stories from the other Losers how some kids were sent to conversion therapy, as if you could change who you liked with a few electric shocks and some bible thumping. Still, Mike felt it didn't compare to what was written on the side of the barn.</p><p>
  <strong>NIGGARS STAY OUT OF OUR TOWN!</strong>
</p><p>Mike swallowed and closed his eyes. Nerves behind them tightened, the blood gathering and brooding, threatening to spill tears like an overheating pot filled with boiling water. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides and took deep breaths the way his mom used to tell him to do whenever he was angry about something. In for three seconds, hold, then out. In for three seconds, hold, then out. He let the sound of the Ash trees swaying in the wind travel through his ears. The <em>moos </em>from the cows in need of feeding stamped down his anger, muting it to a near broil. He opened his eyes and stared at what was written.</p><p>Henry Fucking Bowers. And of course he misspelled the terrible word.</p><p>Mike reached out his hand and brushed his fingertips along the wood. It was dry. Of course it was. With the sun beating down like multiple slaps to the face, even permafrost from the Ice Age would melt in a nanosecond.</p><p>He thought about what to do. His grandfather would be home any minute and the <em>last </em>thing his old man heart needed was another warning to get out of town. It wasn't that Mike's grandfather was afraid. Oh, no, he was as stubborn as an ox with a will that would drag Stonewall Jackson through the dirt. Grandfather Hanlon would look at this and brush it off, comment about Derry's intolerance, and go about his day making sure his grandson was delivering fresh meat.</p><p>Mike wished he was as tough as him, as unflinching as his grandfather. But he wasn't his grandfather. No. He was not his son.</p><p>He mulled around a bit wondering what to do when it hit him. He ran to the main house, passing squares of hay and chickens strutting about. He barreled through the kitchen and grabbed the house phone and dialed the number.</p><p>Mike looked around the kitchen as the phone rung in his ear. The small dining table still had his grandfather's newspaper on it. Another child disappearance. Emily Tallis. It seemed to happen more now than ever. Did it have something to do with that clown he saw when Henry and his lackies were beating on him at the ravine? The clown that looked as though he was eating a...a human hand? Had to be. Right? Made sense. Well, it didn't make sense because how in the hell could something like that exist? Then again, this was Derry. Strange Attraction Central. When the decrepit fan from the ceiling spun, it tossed the newspaper toward the floor. Mike then looked out of the cracked kitchen window at the Ash tree's leaves. They danced like emeralds in the wind, seas of viridescent against a cerulean sky.</p><p>
  <em>"Hello? May I ask who's calling? Hello?"</em>
</p><p>Mike snapped out of his trance, realizing that someone was talking. "Yeah. Eddie? It's me, Mike." </p><p>
  <em>"Mike? Hey, what's up?" </em>
</p><p>Mike cradled his elbow in his hand. A queasiness rattled his stomach and the back of his throat felt dry. "Not much." He looked out of the window to the barn that wasn't in view. "Just calling. Seeing how things are."</p><p>
  <em>"Are you okay? You sound worried about something?"</em>
</p><p>Damn. Mike shook his head. How could Eddie pick up on that stuff? "Yeah, I'm good, I just..."</p><p>
  <em>"Dude! Quit being an ass crack, I'm on the phone. It's Mike. Ok, well, you can talk to him when I'm done."</em>
</p><p>"Eddie? You there?" Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe he could try scrubbing it himself before his grandfather came home.</p><p>The line fizzed in and out. <em>"Sorry 'bout that Mike. Richie's here and he's being a DICK-WIPE. Yeah, I said it." </em>More clattering in the background. Mike could scarcely make out someone's voice, loud enough and grating as oven baked sandpaper that he knew it was Richie's. The line picked up. <em>"Might wanna talk quick Mike. Richie's over here and I don't know how long I can hold him off."</em></p><p>"Eddie, you know about cleaning products right?"</p><p>
  <em>"Oh, hell yeah. What do you need?"</em>
</p><p>"Something that can get out paint. Dry paint." </p><p>
  <em>"Umm. Yeah, I think I might have something for that. What do you need it for?"</em>
</p><p>Mike breathed in and out. He didn't exactly want to tell him over the phone about what was sprayed over the barn's wall. It was something that he had to see in person to fully understand. Then again, it probably wouldn't affect Eddie as much as it affected Mike. "It's a mess over here," Mike said, twisting the chord with his finger. "I just need help cleaning is all. If you can't come over that's fine, I'll try and work it out myself." Mike wouldn't be surprised if he was busy or didn't want to come over. After all, no one wants to hang with the black kid who's accused of causing a fire. </p><p>
  <em>'"Hey. We're Losers, remember? I'll be right over to...fuck, dude, alright here!"</em>
</p><p>There was a scuffling on the other end of the line. Mike had to pull back from the phone a bit when Richie's voice came booming through the phone. <em>"Yo! Main man, Mikester! "</em></p><p>Yeah. That still took some getting used too. "Hey, Richie," Mike said, sticking a finger in his ear.</p><p>
  <em>"Can you believe Eddie wouldn't let me talk to you? I swear, the motherfucker is so uptight. Sometimes I wonder if a lighting rod's shoved up his ass."</em>
</p><p>Mike could faintly hear Eddie's voice. <em>"Fuck you, man."</em></p><p>
  <em>"Whoah! Anger issues. Don't worry, bud. Once I'm your stepdad, you'll feel a lot better."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"My mom would never. She has some standards."</em>
</p><p><em>"I don't know. I think she's in need of some good Richie lovin'."  </em>Richie made some, what Mike thought to believe, sex noises that sounded like high pitched moaning.</p><p>
  <em>"I will fucking smash the receiver over your head."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Before or after I bang your mom? Hey, fat chicks need love too."</em>
</p><p>Mike sighed, waiting for the two boys on the other end of the line to finish bickering. He still couldn't believe that he called these guys his friends. Not that they rubbed him the wrong way. It's just that he could only take so much of Richie's potty mouth and Eddie's rebuttals before he tuned them out. Thank God for Bill, Stan, Beverly, and Ben. It seemed the four of them always balance out Eddie and Richie's Wonder Twin craziness.</p><p>Mike broke up the argument about Richie getting to third base with Eddie's mom. "So, are you coming?"</p><p>Eddie groaned as he spoke. <em>"Yeah. I'll be over. See ya in a bit."</em></p><p>The line went dead. Mike put the phone back on the receiver. He sat at the kitchen table, twiddling his thumbs, waiting for Eddie. The faint sound of a house fire burned the back of his mind.</p><p> ***</p><p>About thirty minutes passed before Mike heard the sound of tires crunching the gravel road. He sprang from his chair and went out the kitchen door. In the distance, he saw Eddie pedaling, his skinny legs going up and down. Riding on the pegs was Richie, waving haphazardly, threatening to tip over the bike that was riding in huge arcs.</p><p>They came to a swerving stop in front of Mike. Richie hopped off the bike and did a barrel roll onto the ground, causing Eddie to skid to a stop with his feet. "Damn Richie!" Eddie hopped off and kicked the kickstand of his bike. "Sorry for taking so long, Mike."</p><p>"No problem," Mike said.</p><p>Lying flat on his back, Richie held up his hand. "Yo. The Mike-a-nator."</p><p>"Hey Richie." Mike helped him to his feet.</p><p>"Sorry for the delay. Eddie drives like a 90 year old grandma. 'Course my wang added to our journey."</p><p>Eddie opened his fanny pack-yes, a fanny pack-and brought out his inhaler. Not only was a fanny pack on his front side, but Mike had to look again and see that Eddie had three fanny packs. One in the front. Two hanging on his hips. "You almost caused me to crash, dip-shit. You're lucky I was wearing my helmet and knee pads. The last thing I need is for my skin peeling off and shit from hitting the street."</p><p>Mike still couldn't believe how fast Eddie was able to string together words. He always talked as if his mouth was powered by rocket fuel and wheat. It was on par with the speed of light. Almost.</p><p>Eddie continued. "Remember Lory Gonzales? So she, like, tumbled down the street last week and it was so gross. She came to school with bandages barely covering her scars and it just made my skin crawl." He shuddered as he drew medicine from his inhaler.</p><p>"Yes, dude. You only brought it up, oh, a hundred times." Richie slung his arm around Eddie as he was straightening his above the knee red shorts. "Sometimes you just gotta let life do it's thing, Spaghetti." He held out his hand and cupped it as if he was holding something spherical. "Sometimes, you just gotta bend over, grab your ankles, and let life ram it's ten inch long dildo inside your butthole."</p><p>Feigning disgust, Eddie tried to squirm away from his hold. "Dude. You're gross."</p><p>"What do you have against dildos? Hmm? You should be used to seeing those around your house. Your mom has a lot of them."</p><p>"No she doesn't."</p><p>"I bet when she bought one, she said this." In a grandiose voice like a famous playwright, Richie exclaimed. "Yes, good, sir! I'll have your finest dildo! Preferably blue, huge so that it can dislodge that pole up my anus! Yes! Oh, thank you, shopkeep."</p><p>Eddie elbowed him in the ribs. "You're a dip shit. A stick literally dipped in gray water."</p><p>"Oh. Ow. That hurt me. I'll never recover," Richie dryly said. He straightened his grandma glasses. "So, Mike, what's happening on Ole McDonald's Farm?"</p><p>Mike shook his head. Finally. Sometimes waiting for these schmucks to finish their exchange was like waiting for a flight that's been delayed overnight. "It's over here. I'll show you."</p><p>With iron weights burdening his shoulders, Mike walked toward the barn. Eddie and Richie followed close behind, talking about the new <em>Streetfighter </em>game at the Arcade. Richie was adamant that he could beat Eddie's scrawny knock kneed ass over the game any day of the week. Eddie responded with a point by point case that video games were more than just useless button mashing. Their conversation was white noise in Mike's ears as they came toward the barn.</p><p>The three of them stood at the side of the barn and Mike waited for their reactions. For some reason, seeing it a second time with Eddie and Richie only made Mike's bone marrow heat up. It was embarrassment mixed with the feeling of utter hopelessness, the feeling that he would always be subjected to looks, stares, and criticisms. One warning could mean a million.</p><p>"Whoah," Eddie said, rubbing his neck. "That's...intense. To say the least."</p><p>"Fucking Bowers." Richie shook his head in indignation. He swiped off his glasses as if they were fooling him into seeing something that couldn't be true. "He's got some nerve. You'd think that mullet wearing asshole learned after our little rock war."</p><p>Mike sighed, heat crawling all along his backside. "Yeah. well, I guess he didn't." His voice sounded small, microscopic in his own ears.</p><p>He felt hands on each of his shoulders. Eddie on his left, Richie on the right. "Hey," Eddie said, his eyes glowing with such earnestness that Mike's heart skipped a beat. "We'll help you clean up this mess."</p><p>"Yeah, man." Richie patted Mike's shoulder roughly. "The wall's gonna sparkle and shine like a diamond. Or shine like the space between Eddie's mom's legs."</p><p>Mike let out an involuntarily snort and covered his mouth with his fist.</p><p>"Dude!" Eddie shouted. He shoved Richie who was unfazed. "Not cool!"</p><p>"Yeah, you're right." Richie straightened his Hawaiian shirt. "It's more of a forest down there. Gonna need a lawnmower to go through all the roots and vines and whatever fertilizer that's making her vagina like a brillow pad."</p><p>Mike continued to laugh, the ugly warning on the side of the barn becoming life's meagerest of problems. So what if Eddie was wearing three fanny packs that made him look like a middle aged uncle? So what if Richie never shut up or noticed social cues? They went behind Mike, stood up for him, risked their lives to save him when Henry was crushing his head with the bottom of his boot. Maybe they are the change to come in the world. Maybe they're the unsung heroes that'll help him acclimate to this backwards town. Maybe they really can defeat Pennywise when he rears his ugly sharp teethed head again.</p><p>"Thanks, y'all," Mike said on the verge of tears. His heart swelled and lobbed up and down in his ribcage. He wiped his eyes and shook his head to try and stop his eyes from watering, but it was no use. "Thanks."</p><p>Eddie and Richie shared a concerned look, then smiled at Mike. Both boys enveloped Mike in a hug that felt like freedom. "Losers got to stick together, man," Richie said, gripping Mike's short Afro and shaking his head. "Bowers doesn't stand a chance when we're together. Neither does that clown fuck Pennywise."</p><p>Eddie nodded his head in agreement. "That's right. We're Losers, but that doesn't mean we can't fight back." He unzipped the fanny pack that hung from his left hip and pulled out the cleaning solution. He pulled out rags from his opposite pack. "Let's get to it."</p><p>The three boys took a rag. Like a freed slave, Mike felt fear and jubilation coursing through his heart for the days to come. But it was necessary. It made him realize that there are people close to him who he would fight for to keep them alive and well. And if that meant dying in a smelly sewer then, well, let him float.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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